


Behind the wall

by Captain_Jowl



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon compliant porn?, M/M, PWP, S5 boys, Semi-Public Sex, there's some plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 08:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17936144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Jowl/pseuds/Captain_Jowl
Summary: The boys have just started living together and can't get enough of each other. The problem is that the house is full of other Milkoviches. Mickey is nervous about someone walking in on them. Ian tries to convince him that keeping quiet during sex is still a lot of fun. (He succeeds.)





	Behind the wall

**Author's Note:**

> Here we have some semi-public(?) porn.  
> Set in the beginning of S5.  
> Ian just wants to f-u-c-k.

The cacophony of noises greets Ian as he opens the front door of the Milkoviches house. Actually, nothing has really changed since he left three hours ago. Joey is watching National Geographic in the living room with an especially constipated facial expression. Yevgeny’s excited squeals are coming from the back of the house. The door to Mandy’s room is slightly opened and there’s music blasting out of it. Several people seem to be arguing in the kitchen. Ian expects to hear Mickey’s familiar aggravated tone, but hums in slight disappointment when he can’t detect it.

Ian drops the bags on the floor and takes off his pullover – he’s been feeling like he’s on fire the whole day. He went out to buy groceries, after Mickey, Colin and a couple of their uncles (they might’ve been cousins, Ian wasn’t sure at this point) pulled some kind of a wild car crash scheme and scored loads of cash. It’s not that Milkoviches couldn’t afford groceries this month, but they managed to put aside some money for baby food and diapers, so Svetlana promised them a Russian style celebratory dinner – cheap and hearty.

Ian picks up the bags and carries them towards the kitchen. He almost gets hit by a door on his way when Mandy flies out of her room with murderous expression.

“Iggy, where the fuck is my baton?” she shouts, ignoring Ian.

Iggy’s response comes from the bathroom. “How the fuck should I know?!” he screams.

“Cause you borrowed it yesterday, dickhead! How am I supposed to go out tonight?!” answers Mandy and starts pounding on the bathroom door. “Get the fuck out!”

The chaotic atmosphere of the house doesn’t bother Ian. If anything, it matches his frantic energy that’s been flowing in him for the last couple of weeks or so. So maybe apart from buying tons of beetroot, Ian ended up rummaging through two thrift shops. He even befriended the store owner, who promised to find him a new stroller for Yevgeny. Why waste time while outside, right?

He sees other Milkoviches at their “dealing with serious business” table, all engrossed in a heated conversation.

“…that’s why I should get twenty percent!” proclaims one of uncle Ronnie’s brothers, whose name Ian can’t remember, waving a cigarette around and getting ash all over the table’s surface. Uncle Ronnie himself just chuckles, eyeing Colin, who looks dangerously red and close to exploding.

“Viktor, this is bullshit and you know it!” he shouts. “Mickey, tell him!”

Mickey’s hidden behind Viktor’s massive back and Ian has to make one more cautious step to see him. Mickey’s still in his “working” clothes that he wore in the afternoon, when a swarm of Milkoviches arrived from their shady operation, bearing good news. First two buttons on his black shirt are popped open, the tie piled up on the table next to a full ashtray. His sleeves are rolled up and a strand escaped his gelled hair and now falling onto his forehead, and Ian feels the heat raising in him. His boyfriend's holding a thick pile of cash in one hand and scribbles on a piece of paper in front of him with the other.

“This jerkoff’s not getting more than two,” Mickey states, not lifting his eyes from the calculations. “You were supposed to keep a lookout but you just hid behind the van like a little bitch you are.”

There’s an authoritative tone to Mickey’s voice and Ian gets a little bit weak at the knees. It might be an overreaction, but it’s still new to Ian – Mickey in a business mode. He’s in charge of the Milkovich household now that Terry is out of the picture. Even including the elder relatives Mickey’s the best at running shit. Those Milkovich thugs are pretty intimidating with their angry scowls, tattoos and busted knuckles, but they all listen to what Mickey has to say. To what Ian’s boyfriend has to say. Hot.

Ian is suddenly aware that he’s still standing in the hallway with all the bags and he is this close to popping a boner. It’s like he’s fourteen again, his dick’s getting hard dozen times a day. He shakes his head, trying to come to his senses, but the second he wants to move, Mickey raises his eyes from the papers. Since he sits at the head of the table, his gaze fixes straight at the redhead. It's clear that Ian’s been staring for a while and Mickey rolls his eyes a bit, before giving him an appreciative once over in return. They don’t say anything to each other. There’s still a couple of bruises on Ian’s ribs from the night that changed everything. They fought and they won. They are _tolerated_ now but it doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to flirt openly. So Mickey holds the electric eye contact for a bit longer and returns his eyes to the paper in front of him, seemingly ignoring the redhead. But then he puts a fucking pencil between his full fucking lips. An innocent move, nothing special. Except he knows Ian. Mickey has just started getting comfortable with his sexuality, he's experimenting, knowing that Ian's eyes are always on him, knowing how he reacts to these things Mickey does, small things. And yes, Ian’s definitely sporting a semi. He stands there for a moment, but Mickey doesn't look at him anymore. Like he doesn’t know what he’s doing to Ian, that asshole. And Ian has to find his way to the kitchen, cursing his traitorous dick internally. He needs to get Mickey all to himself as soon as possible, or he’ll have to hump a pillow.

It’s like a new wave of puberty, but Ian figures it’s all the excitement from finally being officially in the relationship. Being able to fall asleep and wake up next to him. Kiss him whenever and however he wants. Hold him or hold him down when they fuck. Hold his hand. Tell him all the words that he’s been wanting, trying to say so many times. Yeah, that must be it. All the years of being a secret resulted in this insatiable hunger for Mickey, and Ian wants to drown the other boy in affection. He keeps this thought to himself, but ever since his boyfriend came out, they’ve been in some kind of a honeymoon phase, not being able to get enough of each other.

In the kitchen Nika, Svetlana’s girlfriend, smokes and leafs through a magazine, obviously enjoying some alone time. She sighs when Ian enters the room.

“Food?” she points at Ian’s bags.

Ian nods. “It’s for tonight’s dinner.”

Nika stubs out her cigarette and stands up to help him with groceries. As they put everything away, Ian thinks of a diversion plan. He takes a six-pack of beer out of the fridge and returns to the Milkoviches. 

“…and I swear to fuckin’ god, Viktor, you keep that shit up and Imma knock your fuckin’ teeth out!”

“Fuck Mickey, you know my old lady’s gonna have my balls, if I don’t bring the money!”

“Well, you should’ve thought about it before, shouldn’t you?”

Mickey doesn’t look calm and collected anymore, he’s pissed as fuck and halfway out of his chair. And as much as Ian enjoys the badass attitude, he’s not in the mood for good old Milkovich on Milkovich violence. So he drops the beer in the middle of the table and puts a calming hand on Mickey’s tensed shoulder.

“Why don’t you guys take a break, huh? You’ve been at it the whole day.”

“Finally a good fucking idea,” responds Colin without missing a beat and reaches out for the pack but Mickey knocks his hand away.

“We have to finish tonight, or you lazy bastards gonna drag it out for weeks!” he protests.

Colin deflates, but before Ian can object Iggy appears near the table, rubbing at his shoulder and wincing suspiciously.

“Is that beer? Fuck yeah, that’s exactly what I need,” he goes directly for a can, opens it with a telltale click and throws another one to Colin, who catches it with a blissful expression on his face. Iggy takes a swig from a can and produces a joint from behind his ear. “Anyone wanna puff?”

“Hey, douchebags…” starts Mickey, but Colin is already gulping beer like his life depends on it and Viktor’s lighting up Iggy’s joint. His authority is in third place after beer and weed at the moment. He shakes his head. “Okay, okay, we’re taking a short break.”

Colin burps. “Yeah, Mick, just a short break.” 

Ian suppresses a smile, when he leans toward Mickey.

“Hey, I bought you something in a thrift store today, wanna show you. It’s like that one shirt I ripped, when we…ouch! Okay, relax!” Ian laughs as Mickey looks around with widened eyes. “Well…you know when. Just come with me to the bedroom for a sec.”

Mickey sighs. “Only for a sec, we’re having a short break.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mick,” Ian nods dutifully, as they leave the table. He follows Mickey, eyes roaming over his figure, blood already rushing. “One minute.”

 

* * *

 

 

He’s on Mickey the second they close the door. He needs him so bad his skin is burning. Pressing himself against his boyfriend’s back, he lets his hands wander. Hips, sides, chest, throat.

“Fuck, Mick, you’re so hot…”

Mickey chuckles and relaxes into Ian’s touch, now that they’re behind the closed door. “All that money talk really gets you going, huh?”

“You get me going,” murmurs Ian and peppers kisses down the brunet’s neck. He keeps feeling him up and his movements are getting more and more frantic, Mickey's body swaying under the sudden onslaught. “Missed you today,” he pants in the other boy’s ear and smiles when he feels Mickey’s breath speeding up, as he gets swept away by Ian’s burning need. He’s still not used to the amount of affection Ian shows him on a daily basis, since that life-changing night at the Alibi. He never says that but he still wants more. Still can’t believe they can.

He shivers, when Ian kisses behind his ear, making goosebumps appear on the back of his neck. The redhead fucker knows all his sweet spots, knows how sensitive he is, and Mickey is already melting under his lips, eyes closing, body heating up. But then Ian’s hand starts inching towards Mickey’s rapidly hardening dick and he has to collect himself.

“Woah, Gallagher, hold up a second,” he knocks away the attacking hand and turns around in Ian’s arms. “We’ll have the whole evening to ourselves, we can celebrate my scheming genius later, okay?” Mickey props both hands on Ian’s chest and tries to push him off. “Just show me the shirt or whatever and let me get back to the fuckheads out there.”

Ian smiles and captures Mickey’s lips in a quick but lustful kiss and then turns him back around harshly. He wraps both arms around the other boy’s waist, pressing them together again, making sure to grind his hard on against Mickey’s ass with intent. Mickey loses his focus for a beat from being manhandled like that. He fucking loves it when Ian does this rough shit to him.

“Oh, we certainly will celebrate,” murmurs Ian in Mickey’s ear and starts unbuttoning his shirt from the bottom upwards. “But I need you now...” The words sound both sweet and demanding.

 _Yes_ _please_ , Mickey thinks. _I want you too_ , Mickey thinks.

Wait, Mickey thinks. He has unfinished business. He can’t get distracted and let someone pocket his and Ian’s money.

“Ian, wait,” he says. “I told Colin we’re just taking a small break, they’re gonna call me soon.”

“Mick, they’re gonna be stoned and drunk off their asses in half an hour,” Ian chuckles. “We’ll deal with it tomorrow. Don’t tell me you really thought anyone will be thinking straight after Iggy’s weed?” Ian leans in and lowers his voice. “Don’t tell me you didn’t count on it…” He finally finishes with Mickey’s shirt and immediately slides a hand under his tank top, like he can’t wait to touch his skin.

Mickey sighs as his stomach flutters under Ian’s warm palm. “I…fuck…no idea what you’re talking about, Gallagher.”

“Liar,” the redhead says while tugging Mickey’s shirt off his shoulders. “You’ve been teasing me, sucking on that stupid pencil…” He bites on the newly exposed flesh, right where Mickey’s shoulder meets his neck, drawing a surprised grunt from the brunet. 

“No, I wasn’t,” Mickey protests childishly, his voice weak, because Ian’s licking at the bite mark, swirling his tongue. Yes, Mickey was teasing Ian, but he didn’t put much thought behind it. He just likes the power of being able to spark the desire in his boyfriend anytime. It feels good to be wanted.

He still fights the younger boy for his tank top but Ian gets the upper hand by pressing his hard dick against Mickey’s ass crack. A perfect diversion tactic. After Mickey is left naked from the waist up, Ian strips off his own t-shirt and tugs his boyfriend backwards. They both gasp from the raw physical contact, chest to back. There it is. Finally. Skin to skin.

“Want you,” Ian whispers hotly. He’s getting desperate, his cock straining the jeans painfully. He starts moving them both towards the bed, hands brushing over Mickey’s chest, pinching his nipples slightly before gliding down over the ribs to settle on the other boy’s hips. Mickey pants, a rush of heat flooding his head, fever-hot, dizzying.

“Shit, Ian…” he stumbles forward slowly, Ian pressed to his back. His knees hit the wooden edge and he stops, still unsure, but Ian rolls his eyes and pushes him onto the bed face first. Mickey's breath hitches but Ian doesn’t give him time to recover, jumps on top of him and straddles his thighs. Mickey’s not getting away.

Although Mickey’s barely able to think straight, especially with what feels like all the blood in his body already pooled at his cock - he loves being thrown around - the creaking of the abused mattress makes another thought cross his mind.

“We should wait till everyone fucks off, man,” Mickey says and squirms under Ian a little bit. “You know that no one ever fucking knocks in this house.”

Ian grins. “Yeah, Mick, I know,” he sits heavier on the brunet’s legs. “Someone can come in any second.”

“The fuck? Are you getting turned on by this?” Mickey’s eyebrows fly up his forehead as he tries to look at Ian over his shoulder. No, that’s too fucking weird. He’s ready to put up a fight, but his thighs are pinned and he feels stupid wriggling like a fucking caterpillar; he uses his threatening voice instead. “Get the fuck off me, Gallagher!..”

The brunet trails off in the end of the phrase, because Ian starts running his hands all over his thighs and ass, scratching hot lines up his naked back, kneading at the tense muscles. All of the protests are dying in Mickey’s throat in favor of heavy breathing. He can’t even pretend he hates it. Ian’s broad hands feel too fucking good.     

“Just relax, no one gives a fuck about us right now,” says Ian. “They’re gonna drink and smoke and drool over Lana’s boobs. We got a couple of hours till dinner.” As if in confirmation a loud roar of laughter comes from the living room. “You see? No one gives a fuck,” Ian repeats. He leans down, pressing up along Mickey’s back, and nips at his boyfriend’s ear. “ _Please_ , Mick…”

Ian waits a second but the older boy just keeps breathing, so he tentatively moves his hand to the zipper of Mickey’s dark pants. Mickey whispers a soft _fuck,_ hides his face in the bed sheets and lifts his hips, so Ian has room to drag the pants over the swell of his ass. And Ian knows surrender when he sees it.

“Besides…” the redhead gets two handfuls of boxers-covered ass and grinds his massive bulge against Mickey’s thigh playfully. “It’s kinda hot that there’s someone right behind the wall.”

That makes Mickey turn his head to the side again. “It’s my fucking family out there, perv!”

Less than a month ago the thought about anyone getting even the slightest idea of what he’s into would send him into a real panic. Now that he loudly proclaimed his love for cock to the whole neighborhood, he’s not scared anymore. He already knows that he won't be punished for that. And he hates that the idea of someone hearing him while he’s being fucked by Ian makes his dick twitch. It’s embarrassing and he wants to start squirming again or try to knock away Ian’s big fucking hands off his ass, but if wriggling felt stupid before, now, with his pants tugged down to the middle of his thighs, he feels even more ridiculous.

“Perv? Hmm, let’s see…” Ian ignores Mickey’s confusion and reaches around his hip to cup the older boy’s dick. It’s rock hard and there’s a wet patch on the front of Mickey’s boxers. “So who’s the real perv here, huh?” Ian teases and smears the precum right through the thin fabric, moving his thumb over the head of Mickey’s cock. Mickey hisses as the cloth rubs against the sensitive frenulum and lifts his hips again. At this point Ian’s sure that Mickey won’t run away, so he finally rises on his knees and strips Mickey of the remaining clothes. He takes a moment to appreciate the view of the perfect plump ass that is being presented for him and licks his lips.

“So fucking hot, Mickey…” He is suddenly reminded of his own painful erection, the throbbing ache between his legs unbearable. He palms himself through the denim of his jeans, eyes glued to his boyfriend's backside. “Need to get inside of you right now.”

“Then fucking do it already!” Mickey tries to sound more annoyed than needy, but he knows by the way Ian chuckles that he failed. Ian doesn’t need any more prompts to stand up and strip as Mickey reaches out to the nightstand and withdraws a bottle of lube from the drawer.

“Turn over,” Ian asks and his heartbeat jumps, because Mickey complies eagerly. Mickey being compliant in bed is still new to Ian, still thrilling. He hasn’t got used to it yet. Will he ever? 

He crawls back onto the bed and over Mickey, who looks both aroused and aggravated from their previous bickering. It excites Ian to the extreme level, but that’s the usual effect Mickey Milkovich has on him. His gorgeous face, his amazing body and his hot-temper.   

“What?” Mickey snaps, furrowing his eyebrows, and Ian realizes that he’s staring. It’s impossible not to, though. His boyfriend is beautiful, lips bitten and pupils dilated; he’s obviously turned on, breathing heavily, cock stiff between his thighs.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Ian whispers in disbelief and notices with delight that Mickey’s cheeks turn slightly pink as he hides his eyes.

“Fuck off,” Mickey mutters for the sake of decency but Ian doesn’t miss the shy smile stirring his lips. Ian’s been praising him a lot lately, holding him close at nights and whispering compliments and declarations and sweet promises into his ear, and he’s got so much better at accepting it.

Ian waits till Mickey looks at him again and kisses his lips, pleased that Mickey seems to be just as eager to taste him. Last time they kissed was in the early morning, just before Mickey left to do the job with all the Milkoviches, but it felt like ages to Ian. Mickey kisses with all his soul, especially when he’s horny. The kiss is open-mouthed and filthy, Mickey’s sinful tongue circles the insides of his lips, making Ian chase him. It brings the redhead back to the physical reality, where his dick is screaming at him. Jesus, he needs get this show on the road already.

Ian pushes Mickey’s knees up and apart and settles between his opened thighs. Mickey immediately hikes his legs up, rests them on the small of Ian’s back and passes Ian the lube. It’s the most wonderful routine as Ian opens the bottle, slicks his fingers and reaches between their bodies to slide a fingertip over Mickey’s rim. The brunet gasps both from the contact and from the way Ian’s nipping at his neck.      

“Only two,” Mickey murmurs as the first finger breaches past his entrance. “Want it tight.”

Ian groans as he imagines the feel of Mickey’s tight asshole around his cock, and makes a quick work of getting the second finger inside the other boy. That’s when the fun usually begins. Ian twists his hand, so his fingertips apply light pressure to Mickey’s sweet spot, and grins as Mickey reacts to the long-anticipated pleasure, brow furrowing, eyes closing and those beautiful lips parting with a sweet moan.

“Gotta be quiet, Mick,” reminds him Ian in a sing-song voice, rubbing at his prostate rhythmically. “You don’t want anyone to hear you, do you?” Mickey tries not to think about the fact that Ian’s words make the back of his neck heat up and bites at his lips to stop more noises from escaping; but Ian is already withdrawing his fingers and pours more lube into his palm to spread it along his reddened cock. Usually he would take more time, but what Mickey wants he gets.

Mickey lets his legs fall to the sides, spreading them wider to make it easier for Ian to line up. They lock eyes as Ian sinks in at a slow pace, Mickey’s breath caught in his throat from the increasing pressure. They lose the eye contact almost instantly, Ian’s eyes rolling back in his head.

“ _Holy shit_ that’s tight,” he croaks.

Mickey doesn’t tell Ian to get on with it right after he bottoms out, as he often does, because it really fucking is tight. The oxygen leaves his body and the world stops while he’s getting used to the stretch. Exactly how Mickey wanted it. 

Ian’s twitching and whimpering but he waits patiently for the go ahead from Mickey. And Mickey wants to kiss him or tell him, something, but he’s not sure he still has the ability to speak or move his lips whatsoever, so he just jerks his head in a poor imitation of a nod. Ian puffs the sigh of relief and starts moving, sliding his hands under Mickey’s arms and wraping them around his shoulders. Mickey grabs on Ian’s forearms and closes his eyes, concentrating on the sensation of being slowly fucked open. Ian can’t stop whispering to Mickey, telling him how good he makes him feel, how perfect he feels around his cock. He keeps on flexing his hips, only stopping to mouth at Mickey’s neck and collarbones, and Mickey’s face is blissed out, tiny smile on his lips from Ian’s words. And Ian loves seeing it, seeing those small reactions, hearing his gasps.   

But soon Mickey relaxes enough for Ian to go faster and angle his hips better, and Ian feels the frantic energy rushing back. He untangles himself from Mickey, the brunet opening his eyes and smirking, seeing that Ian prepares for some proper fucking. The younger boy sits up on the bed, careful not to pull out, and hooks his elbows under Mickey’s knees, yanking him closer. That gets Mickey to let out an alarmingly loud moan, but that doesn’t stop Ian from continuing his movements, with much more vigor now. Mickey is desperately trying to stifle his moans but fails when Ian takes a hold of his soft hips and starts pulling him back on his dick, making little _ah ah ah_ s escape Mickey’s mouth with every roll of his hips. 

“More,” Mickey murmurs, trying to meet his thrusts. “I need more...”

 _Anything,_ Ian thinks. He pauses to bring one of his lover's legs up, pressing it against Mickey’s chest. His fingers are digging into the thick underside of Mickey's thigh as he slowly pushes in again. They both let out low prolonged groans. _God_ , that's deep.

Ian knows that Mickey gets fucking noisy when it’s deep like that, so he clasps the palm over the boy's parted lips before continuing his thrusting. Mickey's eyes roll back and his arms fly up to fist the sheets over his head, knuckles turning white. Although Mickey’s a bit loosened up, the pressure is still intense (as if it could be different with the monster Ian’s working with), especially in this position. Ian's jaw falls slack as he loses himself in the feeling of Mickey's tight asshole swallowing his dick. Warm. Wet. Surrounding his cock and squeezing, milking him for all he was worth. Mickey's muffled moans, Ian’s grunts and the sound of skin slapping against skin are creating a wonderful sex-symphony in the room.

It's so good. So. Fucking. Good.

Ian comes back to his senses when Mickey grabs on his ass cheek, prompting him to go even harder. Ian smiles at him fondly. Getting so thoroughly fucked with half of his family in the next room and still demanding more. Always demanding more, this fucking guy.

He braces his legs a bit wider on the bed and jumps into action, snapping his hips with abandon. Mickey’s body immediately tries to arch into the movements, but Ian holds him down. Mickey starts swearing and full on whining into Ian’s palm. It almost sounds like he’s in pain, but his whole body language screams pleasure, screams more, screams _harder please oh god_ and Ian’s grip on his thigh hardens.

There’s a clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen and Ian feels the wave of excitement rushing through his body. Fuck, they can probably hear them. Fuck, they know exactly what they’re doing right now. All those badass scary Milckoviches just behind the wall, and here he is, doing the baddest out of them in their own house. This is so fucked up that this turns him on as much as it does. So fucked up.

Mickey seems to hear it too, since he lets out an especially filthy moan into Ian’s palm, the kinky fucker he is. They lock eyes and it’s so electric Ian can’t suppress the excited grin blooming on his face. He doesn’t think it’s possible to be more in love than he is at this very moment. But then he feels Mickey grinning in return under his palm and his heart about bursts.

God, they’re both so fucked up. God, he’s so damn lucky. Ian loves this. This thing they have. _Oh fuck_ it feels amazing. Mickey does amazing things to him. They do amazing things to each other. 

Mickey lets go of the sheets and sinks his hands in his own hair. His neck and chest are flushed beautifully, skin damp and hot. His thighs are quaking with the momentum of Ian’s thrusts. His body is _gorgeous_ and Ian wants to touch him all over. But Mickey’s dick is so hard and red against his stomach, and he has to prioritize. It must be aching so bad, leaking between them. This makes Ian grin again. Good.

Ian leans down. “Wanna get you off, Mick,” he breathes into Mickey’s ear and grazes the earlobe with his teeth playfully. “You gonna keep quiet for me?”

Mickey nods eagerly, and Ian slightly raises the hand from his mouth.

“Lick.”

Mickey just pants for a couple of seconds. And then he runs his tongue over Ian’s palm, wetly, slowly sliding it in between Ian’s fingers, holding his gaze. It’s so fucking wanton and Ian can’t stop staring, eyes wide and mouth open. He feels like he’s going to come right this second.

“Fuck, Mickey…”

There’s a hint of a smirk in Mickey’s eyes – the fucker knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s just so… So…

Ian growls and pulls out, ignoring Mickey’s quiet whimper. He grabs under Mickey’s other thigh and brings his other leg up.

“Frog your legs out… Yeeeah, like that…”

He takes both of Mickey’s ankles, crosses them and holds them with one hand, leaving Mickey’s junk on display. Mickey squirms and licks his lower lip impatiently. He clearly has no idea how fucking delicious he looks, all aroused and exposed like this. _Damn_.

“Just gonna stare at me all day or what?” Fucking impatient.

“Grab a pillow,” he asks and Mickey can’t shove it under his ass fast enough.

“I’m close. Gotta hit it hard, tough guy.”

“Always do, asshole.”

They're both grinning. 

Ian lines up and pushes in. Mickey gasps as Ian bottoms out. Deep. _Fuck_. Ian starts moving, using Mickey’s crossed ankles as leverage. He takes a hold of his boyfriend’s cock, hand still wet with the other boy’s saliva. Mickey’s asshole clenches around Ian as he spreads the wetness over the whole shaft and starts stroking him in rhythm with his thrusts. Ian fucks Mickey hard, picking up the pace, and Mickey is shaking and jerking his hips, fucking into Ian’s hand. He barely contains his groans, head lolling from side to side on the bed, lips parted.

But he is still too focused for Ian’s liking, so Ian angles his thrusts the way he knows makes Mickey’s mind go blank. It works. It always works. Mickey throws his head back with a hiss. He’s fisting the sheets again, biceps bulging. Fucking hot.

“Right there?” Ian asks through the grunts of exertion. He doesn’t actually need to know the answer. He sees the way Mickey’s toes are curling right in front of him. Yeah, it’s right there. _Goddamn_ , he loves being fucked like that. “Feels good, huh?”

Mickey can’t answer. He’s in a daze, Ian’s dick rubbing magically against his prostate.  He wants to cry out from the intensity of the feeling, but he has to keep quiet, so he just gasps helplessly, gulping the air.

“Ian…fuckkk…”

Mickey’s cock is slippery from the precum and his own saliva, and Ian tightens his grip, his hand jerking Mickey with a sick wet noise. Mickey’s body is getting drawn tighter and tighter, muscles tensing. He clenches around Ian again, rushing the redhead’s orgasm; Ian has a flash-like thought that he’s gonna have to suck Mickey off after, because he’s going to come first.

But then Mickey freezes for a couple of long seconds, head thrown all the way back, and Ian hurries to let go of the boy’s ankles, Mickey’s trembling legs falling to the sides. The redhead presses their lips together right on time to swallow Mickey’s moan, as he comes all over Ian’s hand and his own stomach, shaking in Ian's arms. Ian grunts through his own release, his cock milked by Mickey’s contracting muscles till the last drop. He pulls out before Mickey comes back to reality enough to feel the sting of it and collapses on the brunet.

They come down from their high, light-headed and blissed out, just breathing together. Mickey is running his shaky hands over Ian’s back lazily, and Ian can’t stop smiling as he nuzzles his face in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck. Mickey always smells good, but he smells the best right after sex. 

“That was fucking good,” Mickey says and Ian pulls away to look at him. The other boy looks like the definition of the word “afterglow”, cheeks pink and blue eyes sparkling, satisfied grin on his lips. Strands of hair are falling onto his forehead and Ian pushes them out of his face with a hand not covered in the result of Mickey’s satisfaction. He brushes his fingers over the soft skin of the brunet’s face, Mickey’s tongue darting to lick at his fingertip as he gets too close to his mouth. Ian chuckles and Mickey slides his fingers in the redhead’s hair to pull him into a kiss. The drag of their lips is slow and relaxed, no need for a rush anymore.

They actually manage to enjoy their after-fuck time before there’s a knock on the door.

“You finished finally?” Mickey grimaces as they hear Svetlana’s sharp voice.  “I need carrot boy to watch Yevgeny. Dinner can’t cook itself.”

“Okay, Svet, I’m coming!” Ian jumps from the bed in a beat and Mickey shivers, his skin’s cooling. Ian practically runs to the bathroom to clean his hand and wet a washcloth. He comes back to Mickey and cleans him up – that’s something Mickey’s only recently gotten okay with Ian doing for him. Felt too intimate.

Mickey observes Ian tugging his boxers on, while taking cigarettes from the nightstand and lighting one up.

“Me and Yevvy are going to watch Svet cook!” tells him Ian, zipping his jeans. He snatches the cigarette from Mickey’s fingers a takes a deep drag. “I’m gonna learn from her!” he grins, but Mickey just looks at him with raised eyebrows. Mickey doesn’t get it, doesn’t get how much fun it will be. Whatever, Ian’s in too good of a mood to get discouraged.

There’s another knock on the door. It’s Joey this time.

“Mick, Iggs and Viktor made a bet and Iggy needs your help with this shit.”

“What the fuck,” Mickey complains quietly. Ian shrugs and Mickey shouts: “Tell him I’m gonna be with him in twenty!”

“Get your ass over here, Mick, I need you right now!” They hear Iggy shouting back.

Both of the boys share a look. Damn, those walls are fucking thin. Ian grins at Mickey and gets blushing cheeks and a middle finger as an answer.

“I said I need twenty fucking minutes, Jesus!” Mickey hollers back and snatches the smoke from Ian.

“What do you need twenty minutes for?” Ian asks, picking up a t-shirt from the floor. “I cleaned you up.”

“The fuck do you think, genius? Not gonna be dripping with your spunk during the dinner just cause you can’t keep it in your pants.” 

Ian chuckles and shakes his head. “How many times do I need to make you come for you to stop being a grumpy fuck?”

“Gonna be much more relaxed when all those freeloaders fuck off to their own fucking houses,” Mickey answers. “Half of those douchebags didn’t even help with the business.”

Ian pauses for a beat with the hand on the doorknob. Mickey’s hollowing his cheeks around the cigarette, trying to come off nonchalant, but Ian has always been good at getting things that Mickey doesn’t say. All the people in the house are bothering him more than he admits. It’s fun to play sometimes, but Mickey has had enough of constantly looking over his shoulder.

“I’ll talk to Svet,” Ian says. “She’ll know how to scare them off. Some pregnancy horror shit or something like that.”

Mickey nods and Ian opens the door.

“Hey,” Mickey calls and Ian looks at him again. “Did you even buy me a shirt in the first place?”

“Yes, I did. It’s in the bag in the kitchen,” Ian answers and leaves the room.

 

**Author's Note:**

> They definitely heard them.


End file.
